


Rise to a Challenge

by TheDarkRat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputee, Five Stages of Grief, Happy Ending, Medical Procedures, Trigger Warning - amputation, encouragment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkRat/pseuds/TheDarkRat
Summary: The road had been long. Painful. But she had persevered.





	Rise to a Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Last year I attempted a writing prompt, one per week. I got 3 weeks in before the Muse decided to quit. I figured I'd share with you guys.

The road had been long. Painful. But she had persevered. She’d lasted this long. Through the procedures. The doctors. The surgeries. She’d made it. 

Today was the day. They’d taken measurement after measurement. Even a rubber cast. It had been tedious and at times, just as painful as everything else. 

She’d been working with her physical therapist. She was stronger now. Stronger than she ever remembered being. 

She now measured her life in two segments. Before and After. Before, she had been carefree. Young. Things were simple. After, there was pain. Hardship. She felt like she had aged 30 years overnight. Before, she had been driving. After, she was in the hospital. Before, she had working late. After, she wasn’t working lately. 

There had been a second car. They had made poor choices. She knew they hadn’t meant for this. But it had happened all the same. Before, she had been singing along to the radio. After, the hum and beeps of the machines lulled her to sleep. Before, she had been waiting tables. After, she was waiting on a table for the surgeon. 

Sometimes the rage of unfairness threatened to overtake her. Turn her into nothing but flame and anger, twisted metal and revenge. They told her that was normal. Part of the process. Grief wasn’t just for death. Sometimes the sadness drowned her. Tears and sobbing for a future lost. The therapist let her cry. A leech to her depression. They said emotions were important. You should feel each one and never ignore them. 

Each day, they brought her to the gym. Each day, new ground to be covered. Before, she would walk in the park and enjoy the foliage. After, they wheeled her through the landscaped and manicured lawns. Before, she would stretch on tiptoe to reach the very top shelf. After, she felt as if the world had gotten taller. 

They brought it in, all wrapped up in a box with tissue paper and bubble wrap. Like some fragile doll. It was metal and plastic. It looked alien. Foreign. But when they attached it. Buckles. Straps. A harness that jingled faintly, her mind giddily thought of horses and reindeer. But when they attached it, it felt. Solid. 

She pushed all their hands away. Ignored the crutches. Ignored the walker. Ignored the cane. She put her own hands on the arms of the chair. Her arms, so strong from the months of therapy. Stronger than Before. Her arms pushed her body upward. Her back and hips angling her forward. It took less than 5 seconds. But it felt like forever. 

Before, she couldn’t stand. Before, she’d lost her leg in the crash. The car swerved over the double yellow lines and straight into her. Before, she was less than she had been. Before, she couldn’t walk. 

After. Now. She could. She rose from the chair and took her first step to her new life. 


End file.
